Spark
by laras-dice
Summary: If you believe a lie long enough, does it become your truth? *15/15 up*
1. Waiting

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: PG-13 (scaled back because I've kept control of my potty mouth!)  
Spoilers: None  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R

**Chapter 1 - Waiting**

Michael Vaughn stood at the entrance to the CIA's op-tech room, a videocassette tape in one hand and a bag of fast food in the other. The tape held the rerun of some documentary on monkeys the op-tech guys had sent him home to tape. Somewhere, he knew, Eric Weiss was still cracking up. Not that he was complaining. The trip home had given him a chance to shave, shower, and even take a little nap -- which was more than anyone else in the room had done in what he suspected was days. Vaughn kept trying to tell himself that he really didn't need to be here -- that they would call him as soon as they made some progress -- but he just couldn't seem to pry himself away from the room.

"How's it going?" he asked, earning the attention of eight men who had previously been hunched over computer screens.

"Food," one said, as if that was an answer.

"No shit, Pasher," said another. He was Agent Calder, who was -- as far as Vaughn could figure -- the leader of the crew. "We've got pretty much group consensus here that this is the most complicated encryption scheme anyone's ever seen -- like ever. I mean, there was one in '92 from...well that's compartmentalized...and then this buddy of mine from college..."

Vaughn nodded. He had quickly learned that it helped bring these convoluted stories to an end.

"Anyway," Calder said. "We're making some progress, but it's super-slow going."

With that, he advanced on the food, as the rest of the group already had. Vaughn was convinced they were surviving on caffeine and grease, and he had long since started to regret the cracks he and Weiss used to make about them. He made his way over to an unoccupied desk and picked up one of the case files sitting there.

And as far as he was concerned, this was THE case file. He was afraid to let himself think about it, but the general agreement among the agents on the SD-6 case was that this could be The One. It was funny, Vaughn thought, how important this case was to him, when all he could do was sit around and wait. Sit and wait while op-tech worked to crack the encryption. Sit around and wait while Sydney and Jack Bristow got the files in the first place.

Memories of that particular mission still clutched at Vaughn's stomach. He had been afraid to offer it to Sydney in the first place, because he had known before he asked -- despite the danger -- what her answer would be.

The CIA had weighed the mission more carefully. An alliance member had invited Jack Bristow to a dinner party at his house in Rome. They would have been content for him to drop a bug, but Jack had floated the existence of the files -- stored on a server on the vast home's third floor -- that contained enough operations information and addresses to "cut the head off of the beast," as Devlin had said. But it meant that Sydney would have to break into the heavily-guarded house; if she was caught, her cover, as well as that of her father, would have been blown. They would have lost all of the progress they had made -- five years of his life, three and a half of Sydney's, and who knew how long of Jack's -- and Jack and Sydney would have lost their lives.

He had been adamantly against it at first, considering the risk to her life too great. But then he had thought about the missions -- all the ones in the future, each and every one dangerous -- that she would have to go on if they didn't give her this one. And eventually, the CIA had taken it out of his hands and proposed that they leave the decision up to Sydney.

She had said yes, immediately, as if there had been no other answer to the question. And so he had sat and waited as Jack entered the house, excused himself to go to the restroom, and disabled key alarms. Waited as Sydney broke in through the basement, slunk up to the top floor, and copied the files. Waited and forced the thought out of his mind that things were going too easily. Heard her whisper, "The guards are coming. I'm going out the window." Heard her climbing. Heard her slip. Heard the thump as she hit the ground, hard. Heard Jack's sharp intake of breath, and a dinner guest asking if he felt OK. Waited and waited, calling her name, until finally he heard Sydney's groan as she picked herself up off of the ground and slunk off across the lawn.

The corners of his mouth turned as he thought of the warehouse meeting after that.

"I have a bruise from -- literally -- here to here," Sydney had said, gesturing from shoulder to mid-thigh. "I don't recommend falling two and a half stories out of a heavily-guarded house. At least it wasn't concrete. The ground, I mean."

And then he grew contemplative, thinking about the mental images that bruise, and Sydney's body, would have conjured a few years ago. It hadn't been easy -- learning to force them out of his mind, along with any thoughts of love or affection beyond friendship -- but he had done it. Knew she had too.

Too dangerous. The two words he had made his mantra after realizing that he was far too interested in three words -- I love you -- that he might never get to say. And he knew in his heart that he would have been willing to risk danger to himself to pursue a relationship with Sydney, but he could never pile more danger on her. The partially-masked longing he saw in her eyes told him that she felt the same way.

But for Vaughn, there was something beyond that. With a romantic relationship, there was always the chance that things could go badly. That suddenly, she would be angry with him, or he would be angry with her, and then she would lose her confidant -- the one person she trusted and could go to when the splintered lies of her life weighed most heavily. Sydney and her father had grown closer, but Vaughn knew there were still some things she could only tell him.

He had finally come to recognize and accept the importance of that reality. And as much as he longed to take her out to a movie like Will, or sit and chat with her like Francie, he preferred his role in her life, as the only one who knew her whole truth.

Or almost her whole truth. They had each lied to each other after that one brief kiss three years ago. Ignored the attraction that -- back then -- had practically crackled through the air between them. Started to build the walls that had proven increasingly effective. There had been a spark between them, Vaughn reflected, but he was afraid they had buried it too deep for recovery.


	2. Images and Memories

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: None  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R. 

**Chapter 2 - Images and Memories**

Sydney Bristow looked up as her housemate Francie muttered something about "Joey's freaking pizza" and slammed down the phone receiver.

"Seriously, Syd," she said. "I know we say this all the time, but we really do need to change our number."

Sydney searched for what she hoped was an appropriate facial expression for this latest lie. She decided on a slight smirk, turning up one corner of her mouth and lighting her eyes.

"Aw, c'mon Francie. I think it's kind of funny," she said. "Yesterday I took some kid's order for pineapple and anchovies. He's probably still waiting for his pizza."

Francie laughed. "That's not funny. That's mean," she said, then a look of recollection crossed her face. "Hey, Will was all gung-ho about coming over tonight and watching _On the Waterfront_. I told him I didn't think you had work."

Francie put an artful amount of distaste in the last word, as she and Will always did. Their disgust with her job was becoming increasingly transparent.

_If you only knew how much I hated it myself_, Sydney mused. _If you only knew of the lies and the missions and the sacrifices and the tears_. Only one person besides herself knew about the tears, and she thought of Vaughn as Francie launched into a diatribe on Will's obsession with classic movies.

They had gone through a phase early in their relationship when he had asked her random personal questions. What was her favorite movie? Did she ever have pets? What did she like on her pizza? The latter had wrought laughs from both of them as the irony hit. The fact that he was interested in the more mundane, less world-saving details of her life had only served to heighten her attraction to him.

"Syd?"

"Oh...huh?"

"So, can you pry yourself away from work tonight?"

"Yeah. Hey, maybe we can even get a pizza -- with pineapple and anchovies," Sydney said, eliciting a giggle and an "I don't think so" from Francie. Then, remembering the origin of their conversation, she said, "But I probably should hit the library for a little while now."

"Better watch, Syd," Francie said as Sydney picked up her backpack and moved towards the door. "Enough talk like that and you might actually graduate."

_Maybe I will_, Sydney thought. _ Maybe the CIA will get what they need from those files and I can go back to being a full-time student with a normal life_.

The day she brought SD-6 down had been an evolving fantasy in Sydney's mind. At first it had featured her walking into Sloane's office and laying down the details of how she had avenged Danny's death and how he could rot in jail, or hell. Then it had been walking out of Credit Dauphine, into Vaughn's open arms, and kissing him passionately -- in broad daylight. Now, she just fantasized about this quest of hers finally coming to an end, about not having to tell any more lies.

One lie bothered her more than the rest. It was the one she had started three years ago after Michael Vaughn's lips had warmed hers in that cold dark warehouse. The kiss had been brief, but long enough for her to feel the tingle travel down her spine, all the way to her feet, it seemed. But when they had pulled apart, she could see in his eyes that they were thinking the same thing.

Too dangerous.

She had paused for a second, read the reaction in his eyes, then spun on her heel and left. The clicking of her boots almost eclipsed his quiet, "Be careful." She had held it together -- been the responsible spy and looked for tails -- during the drive home. But when she had walked through the front door, and discovered -- to her relief -- that Francie wasn't there, she had burst into tears. A good cry and a few glasses of wine later, she had steeled her resolve to bury her feelings -- deny them as long as she had to. She could accept the danger to herself -- it was already part of her life -- but she couldn't bear to have something happen to him.

As the wine swirled her thoughts, she had been struck with the image of another bloody bathtub. It was the image she would use to push her attraction away whenever his jade eyes or lean figure stirred her. She found that the romantic feelings came less and less frequently, and eventually not at all. Vaughn was merely her friend now -- her best friend, and the only one who knew the truth about her life -- but just a friend nonetheless.

So she would go to meet him today, and there would be no tension. No electricity, and no spark. Just Sydney and Vaughn, hoping against hope that maybe the end of SD-6 was in sight. And wondering what, if anything, it would mean for them.


	3. A Final Sunrise

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: None  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R

**Chapter 3 - A Final Sunrise**

Sydney took the stairs up to the top floor of the library, which was almost guaranteed to be unoccupied. She briefly wondered if she was the only person who went to the library anymore, and decided that this didn't even count because she wasn't really here to study.

Over the years, she had met with Vaughn at innumerable random places, often wondering how in the world he thought of them. Of course, her favorite place to meet was the warehouse, where they could actually look at each other and talk at full volume. She smiled, thinking of its metal fence cage, and the way Vaughn always opened the gate for her, in some form of messed-up spy-world chivalry.

But today she walked between the bookshelves until she spotted him, perusing the titles. She took position at the shelf across the aisle from him and quietly said, "What's up?"

Sydney could barely see him in her peripheral vision, but she could sense the joy in his demeanor, feel rather than see the broad smile on his face.

"Op-tech broke the encryption two hours ago," he said. "We've been coordinating an international strike against all of the alliance organizations since then."

Suddenly, Sydney felt so loose she thought she might puddle on the floor. "Are you serious?"

"Syd, you know I would never joke about something like this." He gave her a moment to steady herself, sneaking a quick glance. She was standing, barely, by holding onto the bookshelf for support.

"Obviously, with something that requires this much coordination, we'd like to take awhile to plan it. But we also don't want to risk the possibility of a leak," he said. Then, with finality, "We go tomorrow."

Sydney almost trusted herself to talk. "Tomorrow?" she squeaked.

"Yes. I can't give you a time, because we haven't set one yet. Your father will be coordinating the SD-6 attack from the inside. He'll stop Sloane from activating the failsafe and keep building security under control. Just do whatever he says. I'd like to have you wear a wire, but they'll catch it when they scan you."

She took a deep breath and softly said, "Okay," before she turned to leave.

"There's one more thing," he said. "This will be a massive attack at the centers of all of the alliance groups, but it will take months, maybe even more years, to root out the periphery. So we don't want to draw attention to you or your father. We'll arrest you like everyone else, and I'm sorry it has to be that way, but we don't want it broadly known who the SD-6 moles were."

"That's okay," she said, still not trusting herself with larger words.

"The cover story will be a Justice Department raid on Credit Dauphine. Embezzlement, tax evasion, whatnot."

A short silence told her he was done. She pulled a few books from the shelf before she walked off, wondering if Vaughn had purposely chosen a section filled with literature analysis, or if the Dewey Decimal gods had smiled on her.

Vaughn raised his eyes just enough to watch her walk away. He was impressed that she could even walk after that news. He had a few hours on her and he was still reeling.

_One thing was for sure_, Vaughn thought, _ he owed op-tech big time_. Calder had announced success by emitting what could only be described as a war whoop and flinging a pile of disks across the room.

"This is it, man," he said as Vaughn and the other agents crowded around his computer screen. "You got financial information, operational data, mission summaries, names, cell locations. A veritable cornucopia of bad-guy data."

"Print it off, or back it up, or whatever," Vaughn had said, as the agents launched into a discussion of just what exactly Calder had done to crack the files. Vaughn had grabbed the nearest phone to call Devlin, and by the time he had called Sydney, rough plans were in place for a strike the next day. Vaughn smiled at the recollection of that phone call and realized that he was really looking forward to finally meeting Francie. She must have been in a good mood today, because he only got a "Joey's freaking pizza," instead of last week's stream of expletives.

She was still in a good mood when Sydney got home, stating dramatically, "Do my eyes deceive me, or is Sydney Bristow home before 9:00?"

"I thought they locked her in the vault at night," Will -- who apparently had not waited for her arrival to begin drinking -- bellowed from the couch. "Credit Dauphine vampires."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Really funny, guys," Sydney said. She kept her voice playful, but her mind was still whirling. This could be the last time she heard ragging from her friends about the bank. No more missed movie nights and canceled shopping trips. When she went on a trip, it would be a vacation, and when she went for a run, it would be to run, not meet with her handler-best friend-guardian angel -- the man her friends knew nothing about.

She thought of Vaughn, there in her house, sitting on the couch and drinking beer with them. Being normal. Doing normal things, together. Will shooting him jealous glares because, well, because the man was phenomenally attractive. She let that thought slip out from behind her wall of lies.

_Why not_, she mused. _I have less than 24 hours left as a spy._

They settled into a comfortable silence after Francie popped the movie in. By the time it was over, Will was far too drunk to drive home -- or move, for that matter.

"Take the couch," Francie said. "You are going to have such a hangover tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, whatever," Will slurred. He waited until Sydney and Francie stood up to curl up on the couch and promptly pass out.

"I think we need to rethink movie night," Francie said. "It's detrimental to Will's health."

Sydney laughed. _Not until after I get a chance to bring a guest_, she thought. She headed to her bedroom, although she wasn't so sure -- despite the alcohol in her system -- that sleep was going to happen on this night.

After an hour of tossing and turning, Sydney gave up. Pulling on a robe, she went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Will was still sacked out on the couch, she noticed as she walked by. After pouring a glass, she turned to look out the window, wondering if perhaps there was some sort of time conspiracy making the current minutes of her life move so agonizingly slow.

Her gaze settled on the books she had checked out from the library, still sitting on the kitchen counter. _Maybe I should start that paper_, she thought, _and at least do something productive_.

A few hours later, she had surprised herself with five pages. _Maybe I should eschew traditional research in favor of the random-book-grabbing method,_ Sydney thought with a grin. She tensed as she heard footsteps -- heavy, belonging to a man, and from the sounds of the trudging, a man somewhere between drunk and hung over -- and waited for Will to try to surprise her.

"Hey," he said, walking into the study.

She did the obligatory little jump, "Will, you scared me."

"What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," she said. "I figured I'd get some work done. I thought it would be refreshing to turn a paper in on time."

He gave her a half-drunk, half-awake laugh, then grew serious. "I know we rag on you a lot, Syd, but it's because we want you to be happy. You're at work like 24-7, and when you're not there, you're trying to cram in school. Are you really happy?"

Sydney glanced at her watch. It was so close, she felt herself teetering on the edge of telling him. _Here, Will, in addition to your hangover, why don't you deal with the fact that your buddy Sydney is a spy, and not just any spy -- a double agent._

"Maybe not now," she said. "But I think I will be. There's just been a lot going on at work --"

He cut her off sharply. "Syd, there's been a lot going on at work for like three years."

"I know, Will," she said. "But sometimes it isn't about being happy. It's about being the only one who can do your job as well as you do, and your duty to that."

This was normally the point where he started on the fact that it was just a bank. But something in the firmness of her tone made him stop. They sat in silence for a few moments until he glanced out the window.

"Sun's coming up," he commented.

"Another sunrise, another paper," she said. "Sydney's guide to graduate school."

Will stood up and ran his fingers through his hair, which was standing straight up, save for a few sections sticking out at odd angles. "Time for me to find some aspirin."

"Bathroom. Medicine cabinet," Sydney said, and he walked off. She looked out the window at the vivid colors that were beginning to grace the sky, colors she was very familiar with. She was tired, but still extremely tense. _A matter of hours now_, she thought, as her stomach clutched with a particular nervous pang. Only hours until she could take Will's advice.


	4. Endings

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: None  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R, and thanks for all the encouragement, those of you who have!

**Chapter 4 - Endings**

Dixon could tell as soon as she walked in.

"All-nighter?" he asked.

Sydney glanced down at herself. She hadn't thought she looked any different than normal. Hair blow-dried to a glossy brown, her usual minimalist anti-mission makeup. Sure, she was wearing her most comfortable suit, because she was pretty damn sure this was going to be a long day, but nothing about her seemed to scream "no sleep."

"Yeah. How can you tell?"

"I don't know," he said. "I just can. Instinct, I guess."

It was extremely puzzling to Sydney, how Dixon could be so intuitive as to see right through her -- a spy, no less -- but couldn't see the truth about what he did. _But then_, she told herself, _you didn't either_. _You probably never would have, if not for Danny_.

She never had nightmares about missions. Every nightmare, for Sydney, was walking into that bathroom. Seeing that bathtub. Seeing his body. She wasn't sure if they would ever go away. _But today, Danny, I avenge your death, _she thought._ And I am so sorry for what they did to you -- what I did to you._

Dixon interrupted her thoughts. "Hey, meeting time. Don't fall asleep on us."

She took a deep breath and followed him into the conference room. Her father was already seated there, and greeted her with a poker-faced, "Hello, Sydney."

"Hi," she said, drawing on his impassiveness to keep her voice from shaking. Arvin Sloane picked that moment to walk into the room, and she sat down.

Sloane greeted them with a brisk, "Good morning, people," and an evil eye toward Marshall, who had picked the wrong time to slurp from his coffee mug.

"We actually don't have a whole lot on our plate for today," Sloane said. "I just wanted to congratulate Sydney and Dixon on Geneva. We've got the vials in analysis, and I'm hearing some promising things."

Sydney forced a smile at him, and prayed that he would end the meeting with that. Instead, Sloane launched into the lengthy biography of some Balkan arms dealer. She stole a glance at her father, hoping perhaps that he would give something away, but she should have known better. He was still stone-faced, listening attentively to Sloane.

"So we're going to keep an eye on him, but at it doesn't look like we'll need corrective measures at this point," Sloane said. "That's all, people."

She stood and walked with Dixon back to their desks, checking her watch again. It was 10:05, and she was convinced she would go crazy if she had to wait much longer.

At 10:08, she picked up some paperwork. By 10:15, she realized the futility of that, since the CIA was going to confiscate it shortly. She turned to checking her email. At 10:24, she decided to go get some coffee. When she returned to her desk, she checked her watch again. 10:29. She decided it would be fun to smash her watch into tiny little pieces when everything was over.

At 10:35, she saw her father leave his office. He glanced at her briefly, gave her a miniscule nod, and then walked into Sloane's office.

Forty-two seconds later, 25 men with assault rifles burst through every conceivable entrance to the room.

"Hands in the air, now!" One shouted. "Put 'em behind your head. Nobody moves."

Sydney put her hands in the air and slowly placed them behind her head. She glanced at Dixon out of the corner of her eye, mentally pleading with him not to try anything heroic. _Don't move, Dixon. You don't know it yet, but they're the good guys._

The assault team walked through the SD-6 offices, checking to see that everyone had complied with their orders. And they had. The strike had come too quickly for anyone to even think, much less put up a fight. The sound of handcuffs clinking and voices reciting the Miranda speech filled the room.

Sydney's concern then turned to her father. She glanced at Sloane's office, just in time to see Sloane, and then her father, led out with their hands cuffed behind their backs. Sloane's face was bright red with anger, but his eyes showed betrayal. _He knew_, Sydney saw. _He knew her father was a mole_. She pictured her father walking into the office, pulling his gun on Sloane, telling him not to move, not to set off the failsafe. Telling him the truth -- that all these years Jack had been working against him, all the while pretending to be his friend.

This reverie was interrupted by a pair of soft hands at her wrists. She knew who it was without even looking, could smell the familiar spice of his aftershave. Vaughn squeezed her hands lightly before pulling her wrists down and loosely locking the handcuffs.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you choose to waive this right..."

She let his voice soothe her, bring her breathing back to normal, as she surveyed the flurry of activity in the room. Most of her co-workers' faces were filled with shock as they allowed themselves to be led out. She searched for Dixon and Marshall, but couldn't see them.

Vaughn stepped beside her and placed his hand on her arm. "Time to go." They passed Weiss on the way out, who had his arms full of empty evidence boxes, and a wink for Sydney. Vaughn led her out the front doors of Credit Dauphine, into a sunlight that seemed somehow brighter than it had in a long while.

"Damn it," Vaughn cursed. She looked around to see the cause of his anger, and saw that there were several television news vans already set up across the street. _ That was fast, _she thought_._ He led her a short distance to a nondescript black government sedan and opened the rear door. Vaughn helped her in, placing his free hand on her head to keep her from bumping it on the door frame. He closed the door, walked around to the other side, and got into the driver's seat.

"I'll pass you the cuff key once we get past the little media circus here."


	5. Confusion

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: None  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R

**Chapter 5 - Confusion**

Will Tippin was having a grade-A bad day. Granted, starting a day hung over left you with an uphill battle, but this went beyond that. He wasn't even close to lunch yet, and three people had already hung up on him. His car was making a bizarre rattling noise, he seriously suspected that someone had made decaf coffee instead of regular, and he could see his editor walking toward his desk -- no doubt with the express purpose of chewing him out.

Will leaned over his notes in an attempt to appear busy, but her walk was halted by another reporter's entrance. "We gotta turn on the TV, guys," he said, walking to the corner of the newsroom and clicking on the set himself. "Serious shit going down at Credit Dauphine. Black helicopter-looking types and everything."

Will's head snapped up just in time to see Sydney Bristow, in handcuffs, being assisted into a government sedan.

"...as you can see a number of bank officials were arrested in this raid by the Justice Department," said a blond reporter. She was angled so the screen showed more people being escorted out of the building behind her. "We're told charges include tax fraud and embezzlement."

Someone finally noticed the gaping shock on Will's face. "Hey, Tippin, you okay?"

"Th-that was my friend. Sh-she works there."

"Good," his editor said bluntly. "Try to get her on the phone, see if she has anything to say. Who else is free? We need to get some people down there ASAP."

Will picked up a phone. He would never press Sydney for an interview, but he was worried. Suddenly, all of her late nights and bank trips, the times he felt like she was lying to him, or at least not telling the whole truth, came into focus. But he couldn't believe that Sydney would be in on some sort of scheme. Couldn't believe she was a criminal. So he dialed her cell phone and prayed that -- no matter how unlikely it seemed now -- there was some sort of explanation.

Sydney's phone rang back at the SD-6 office, where agents were busy boxing evidence. "Not another damn cell phone," one said. He gingerly dug it out of a black tote bag. "Hey. This is CIA-issue."

Eric Weiss walked over. "It's Sydney Bristow's. Somebody got a pen?" Taking another agent's proffered pen, he wrote the number down off of the phone's caller ID. He then pulled out his own cell phone to call Vaughn. "Hey. Sydney's cell is ringing. 5-5-0-2-4-3-5-5-9-6."

"Thanks," Vaughn said, still driving himself and Sydney to the CIA's Los Angeles field office. "5-5-0-2-4-3-5-5-9-6. You know that number?"

Sydney looked up. She had been staring contemplatively out the car window, having removed the handcuffs. _In five seconds flat, no less. Now there's a useful life skill_, she thought.

"It's Will. Can I --"

He passed the phone back and listened as her fingers flew through the number.

"Will, it's me," she said. A pause followed, filled with what sounded like indiscriminate screaming from Will.

"The Justice Department raided the bank. Some of the people here were involved in some really bad stuff."

_To put it mildly_, Vaughn thought.

"No, they did not arrest me."

Another pause and more screaming.

"Look," Sydney was beginning to raise her voice now. "Just calm down for a second and let me talk. And you have to promise me that you will not put a word of this in the newspaper, Will."

Vaughn eyed her in the rearview mirror. _What was she doing?_

"I was helping them -- the Justice Department, I mean -- reporting financial discrepancies from the inside. They arrested me like everyone else because they were afraid of ... retaliation."

Vaughn released the breath he had been holding. _Good lie Syd, way to parallel the truth._

"Listen, I'm really sorry that you had to find out like this. Can you please call Francie and tell her. I don't want her to worry."

Will was quiet enough now that Vaughn couldn't hear him from the front seat.

"Okay, bye." She passed the phone back up to Vaughn. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem."

Sydney turned her attention to the paper grocery bag sitting next to her. It had piqued her curiosity before, and as Vaughn pulled into the CIA's parking garage, she stole a glance inside. Six-pack of Diet Coke. Cereal. Couple cans of soup. Box of tissues. She almost giggled, imagining Vaughn's to-do list -- _go grocery shopping, execute raid on secret rogue terrorist organization._

He parked the car and walked around to the other side to open her door. She got out and stretched, looking instinctively around the garage for any signs of a threat. Her experience with these places had generally not been good.

Vaughn caught this action. "You don't have to look anymore, Syd. You did it. You took them down."

The reality and the simplicity of his statement rocked her. Then she looked into his eyes, saw the tenderness there, and burst into tears. Vaughn wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close as she sobbed into his shoulder.

They stayed that way for a long time, Vaughn trying to comfort her by whispering, "shhhh, it's okay," in her ear. Finally, her crying subsided, and she pulled away, glancing at the damp spot she had left on his suit jacket.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." He slipped past her, opened the car door and reached in to drag the grocery bag closer to himself. "Here you go," Vaughn said, pulling out the tissue box and handing it to her.

The fact that he had thought to buy tissues for her only brought on another bout of tears.


	6. A Proposition

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: A minor reference to The Box II, Truth Be Told (pilot)  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R

**Chapter 6 - A Proposition**

Sydney sniffled one last time and blew her nose.

"Ready?" Vaughn asked. "I think you've got an inordinate amount of handshaking and paperwork ahead of you."

She took a deep breath and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "I think so...yeah."

They started walking toward the red door across the parking garage. "I believe you get the privilege of starting off with Devlin," Vaughn said. "Just to warn you, the CIA isn't going to want to lose you."

"As in, 'keep in touch, send us a postcard'?"

"As in there's no such thing as a retired spy," Vaughn said, bracing himself.

When Sydney finally spoke, her speech was stilted and forceful. "No. No way. Absolutely no way. This is it. I'm done."

He had expected this reaction, and was prepared. "Look, Sydney. I know right now that you can't even stand the thought of going on another mission. But I've seen you in the field. Hell, you may not know this, but you're practically a legend now at the CIA. You are too damn good at what you do to give it up."

His speech was not mixing well with her current fatigue, and she shouted at him, "What, bringing down SD-6 wasn't enough? 'Here, Sydney, give up a few more years of your life. While you're at it, why don't you risk it a couple hundred more times?'"

"It wouldn't be like that," he said, trying to stay calm and regretting unleashing her stubborn side. "Just an occasional mission, one that requires someone with your level of exp--"

"Absolutely not," she said, loud and firm. "This discussion is over."

"Forget I ever mentioned it," Vaughn said, slamming his hand against the biometric scanner next to the door, which they had long since reached. After he pounded a lengthy code into the numeric keypad below the scanner, the door clicked open.

Sydney was angry, flustered, ready to cry again, and certainly not ready for what was on the other side of the door. The entire CIA, it seemed, was waiting there to applaud her. She forced a weak smile on her face as the clapping died down, and began to shake hands with them.

Vaughn let this continue for a few minutes, then said. "Okay everyone. Agent Bristow really needs to get moving, unless you all want to help her with her paperwork."

A few of them chuckled. "Thank you all," Sydney said, forcing a broader smile. She started walking to Devlin's office. Vaughn nearly had to run to catch up with her. _ Not that it mattered_, he thought. They walked the rest of the way in an uneasy silence.

Devlin's door was open when they arrived. "Ah, Agent Bristow," he said. "Let me start by congratulating you -- and thanking you."

She walked in and shook his hand. "Thank you, sir."

Vaughn sensed he wasn't wanted there by either of them. "I'll be in my office," he said, closing the door before he walked away.

When he arrived there, he realized that he really had nothing to do. The coming days would be filled with analysis of evidence and interviews with SD-6 staff, but he had reserved this one for helping Sydney. He was pretty damn sure she didn't want his help now.

So Vaughn settled for twirling a silver dollar between his fingers and staring at the wall, which was what he was still doing 45 minutes later when he heard a soft knock on his door.

"Come in," he said, knowing Weiss would still be recovering evidence, and hoping it wasn't Haladki. _I absolutely cannot handle that little asshole right now_, he thought.

It was Sydney.

"Hi," he said, too surprised to think of anything else.

This amused her, and she leaned against the doorframe. "Hi," she said softly. "Look, I wanted to apologize."

"You don't need to. I shouldn't have said anything. Not today."

"No. You were just trying to warn me." She sighed. "Devlin did offer me a job."

"What did you say?"

"I told him absolutely not, and he said he understood that I needed some time to think about it."

"Good," he nodded.

"Anyway, I'm sorry I snapped at you. I just...didn't get any sleep last night, and this day has been..." she trailed off, searching for the right word, and eventually deciding that there was no right word.

"Completely understandable," he said, smiling at her. "Although I was a little concerned you were going to kick my ass back there in the parking garage."

They both laughed. "Come on," Vaughn said. "Let's get started on this paperwork so we can get you the hell out of here."

He set her up in an empty conference room with a couple of fresh pens, a large cup of coffee, a plateful of doughnuts and a very large stack of papers.

"We're going to need statements on everyone," he said. "What their jobs entailed, your observations of them, what you think they knew about SD-6."

"What's going to happen to them?" she asked. "Dixon? Marshall?"

"From what I've heard about Marshall so far, I think he's going to be a welcome addition to the op-tech family. And we could certainly use someone with Dixon's talent in the field. But first they'll all have to go through a very lengthy review process. That's where your statements will help. By the way -- you can skip Sloane," he said. "We've already got plenty on him."

"Damn," she said. "I was looking forward to that one."

Vaughn chuckled. She picked up one of the pens, slid the cap off, and stared at him expectantly.

_Right_, Vaughn thought. _Staring over shoulder bad_. "I'll check back later."

He wandered through the office for an hour, accepting handshakes and a few slaps on the back. _The mood was almost festive_, Vaughn thought.

Sydney was sitting next to a giant stack of papers, scribbling furiously, when he walked back in. _Just like her first day here_, he thought, and told her so as she looked up at him.

"Yeah, except without the bubble-gum hair," she said.

"We've got people here that could fix that," he smirked. "How are you doing?"

"I'm done with Dixon," she stated, handing him the stack of papers.

"This is just Dixon?"

"Yeah. I wanted to speed up his review process if I could. Vaughn, he never once indicated to me that he thought he was doing anything besides fighting for his country. Not once."

"His review will probably be quicker than a lot of the others," he reassured her. "Simply because we know so much about him through you and your father. The email he sent the CIA when SD-6 was under siege certainly won't hurt his case."

"Can I see him?" she said, with pleading eyes. "Please?"

"They're still doing initial interrogations on everyone," Vaughn said. "But I'm going to try and get you in later."

It took her more than four hours and 10 cups of coffee to complete the rest of the statements.

"That's it," she told Vaughn. "And it's a good thing, too, because I think I'd need a caffeine IV and a new hand to write any more."

"Great," he said, taking the stack of papers from her. "You can see Dixon now."


	7. Revelations

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: Reference to The Box I, spoilers for Doppelganger, Reckoning, The Confession  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R

**Chapter 7 - Revelations**

Dixon was seated with his back to her in the middle of a small, gleaming-white room. The metal chairs and table made Sydney uncomfortable just looking at them, and she wondered just how many people were watching from behind the large mirror on the wall.

"Hey," she whispered, realizing that now she was here, she didn't really know what to say.

He turned around, and the emotions on his face caught her completely off guard. Shock. Betrayal. Anger. Fear. And immense sadness. She read them all and remembered the time she had felt them swirling within herself.

"Syd." His expression lightened slightly as he stood up. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, as he crossed the room to hug her. "I'm fine."

"I can't believe it," he said. "I just can't believe it." Dixon took a step back and looked into her eyes.

"You knew, didn't you?"

Sydney froze. "How could you tell?"

"I don't know," Dixon smiled weakly. "Instinct, I guess. Plus I haven't exactly had a lot of visitors."

And then he added softly, but powerfully, the question she had no idea how to answer. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Her eyes reflected his own hurt. "Dixon, I wanted to. God, I wanted to tell you so bad. Every mission, every time you talked about your duty to your country. I just...couldn't."

This explanation wasn't enough for either of them, but Dixon knew it was all she could give. He walked back across the room and sat down, motioning for her to join him. Leaning over, he covered his face with his hands for a few moments before looking at her again.

"You think you're doing what's right. You think you're helping to rid the world of evil. You think you're fighting the bad guys," he said. "And then you find out you're one of them."

Sydney remembered the words of her father, years ago -- "there was a time when this was news to me, too" -- and finally understood how difficult and painful that situation had been for him.

"It's not an easy truth to swallow," she said. "I was there too. But you're not one of the bad guys, Dixon. You were lied to, but your heart was always pure. That's the difference between them and you."

His voice was tortured when he spoke next. "I keep going over every mission in my mind. Wondering what wrong I've done." He looked at her, hoping for a reassurance that she had kept things on the right line.

He found none. Instead, Sydney's eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, God. Syd?" His eyes bore into hers until she finally whispered, "Badenweiler."

Dixon quietly recalled the mission. "You freaked out when I blew the buil..." He trailed off as he realized what had happened. "The CIA had a team inside, didn't they?"

Sydney nodded. "I disabled the bomb, but you --"

"-- brought a second detonator," he finished. In all her time working with Dixon, all the missions they had been on together, she had never once seen him cry. But tears were streaming down his face now, and she began to cry with him.

"I'm so sorry, Dixon."

Sydney was unsure how long they sat there, but knew she wasn't ready for the knock on the door. It opened, and a dark-suited man said, "I'm sorry, Agent Bristow, but we do need to continue here."

She looked at Dixon. "Go ahead, Syd."

She stood up and fished two tissues out of her suit pocket, handing one to him with a soft "goodbye."

Vaughn was waiting for her when she left the room. "If I would have known how difficult this day was going to be, I might have thought twice about taking down SD-6," she said, giving him a feeble smile.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her away. "But it's over now." They walked quietly back to his office.

"Look, I've got a couple more things I need to check on before we leave, so why don't you go ahead out to the car?" He handed her the keys. "I promise it won't be any more than five minutes. Black Lincoln, license -- "

"-- R-T-Z-N. Eighty-nine, seventy-six," she finished, taking the keys from him and hoping she could stay upright long enough to make it to the car. The events of the day and her lack of sleep were really beginning to hit now.

Sydney still found herself scoping the garage when she reached it. _That habit may be hard to break_, she thought, and felt relieved when she finally got into the car.

Vaughn kept his promise, and was walking toward the garage four minutes later, when he heard someone calling his name. He turned and tensed immediately when he saw Jack Bristow walking rapidly toward him. Jack's tolerance of Vaughn had increased over the years, but his commanding demeanor still made the younger agent uneasy.

"Is Sydney still here?"

Vaughn tried to quietly release the breath he had been holding. "Um. No. Sorry. She already went out to the, uh, car."

"Good," Jack said. "I actually wanted to talk to you."

_Oh shit_, Vaughn thought. _Whatever this is, it can't be good_.

Jack's face seemed to soften slightly before he spoke. "When you work in this business, it's difficult to find someone you can talk to. Someone you can tell the truth. Someone you can trust. I thought I found that person," he said, allowing the pain to flash across his face briefly. "But I couldn't have been more wrong."

Vaughn recoiled as he realized who Jack was talking about. _Jack's wife. Sydney's mother. His father's killer_.

Jack paused a moment, giving Vaughn a chance to recover. "I just wanted you to know I'm glad Sydney did find that person." He slowly raised his hand, and Vaughn tried to shake the shock off of his face as he raised his own hand to shake Jack's.

"Tell her I'm proud of her." With that, Jack turned and walked away. Vaughn tried to choke out a thank you, but failed miserably. _What the hell was that_, he thought, slowly starting back on his walk to the garage.

He was still trying to process the exchange, scrutinizing his role in Sydney's life, when he reached the car. He peered in the window and chuckled softly. She was sound asleep.


	8. First Impressions

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: Reference to Truth Be Told (pilot)  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R

**Chapter 8 - First Impressions**

"Hey, I think we've got something," Will said, as headlights turned onto the street outside. He and Francie had been waiting for hours for Sydney to come home, jumping at every set of headlights. Francie dashed in from the kitchen, where she had been brewing yet another pot of coffee.

"Yep," Will said, as the lights turned into the driveway. "You recognize that car?"

"No," she said, moving next to his perch by the window. "But it's like pitch black out there, Will."

Inside the car, Vaughn was gently shaking Sydney's shoulder. "C'mon, Syd. You're home."

She didn't even stir, and looked too calm and peaceful for him to try any harder to disturb her. So instead he opened his car door and got out, noting the faces in the house's front window. _ Must be Will and Francie_, he thought.

Vaughn found he was growing apprehensive as he walked up to their front door. _Not exactly an ideal situation for a first impression_, he thought. He watched the window out of the corner of his eye, seeing them draw back and swing the curtain into place.

Will swung the door open seconds after he knocked. "You're the guy that arrested her."

_So much for getting off on the right foot with Will,_ Vaughn thought. He decided to keep his answers simple, which, he hoped, would lessen his chances of saying something wrong. "Yes. My name is Michael Vaughn. I work for the government, and I was working with Sydney on the bank case."

"Where is she? Is she okay?" Francie, who had taken up position next to Will, demanded.

"Sydney is fine. She's asleep in the car. She's had --" he paused. "-- I don't even think rough would begin to describe her day." _Or her life._ " I didn't just want to show up on your doorstep carrying her in my arms."

_Oops_, Vaughn thought. _That one definitely didn't sit well with Will. Damn it._

Vaughn lowered his gaze in an attempt to avoid the vicious glare Will shot him. Finally, mercifully, Francie spoke. "Well, come on. Let's get the poor girl out of the car."

Francie held the front door open as Vaughn and Will walked to the car. Vaughn had anticipated some sort of manhood-proving fight out of Will over who got to carry her, and was surprised when Will stood aside to let him open the car door and unbuckle her seat belt. _ Maybe he's afraid he can't carry her_, Vaughn thought, and then realized he wasn't so sure he could, either. He'd been a little too preoccupied and sleep-deprived over the past few weeks to hit the gym. To his surprise, however, Sydney was fairly light. Extremely muscular, but light.

He paused when he stepped inside of their house, until Francie realized the source of his confusion. "_Right_. First time here," she said. "Her bedroom's this way."

Vaughn realized he didn't want to let Sydney out of his sight once he deposited her gently on the bed, but Francie was giving both him and Will a look that distinctly said "out, now."

They stood outside, each staring at the closed door, until Francie emerged. "Why don't we all go in the living room and sit down. I think Will has some questions for you --"

"-- Michael," Vaughn helped her.

Will barely waited until they were seated to launch into full-fledged reporter mode. "How long have you known Sydney?"

Vaughn paused a moment to think. This one was tricky, and he couldn't be too specific, or his answer might contradict something Sydney would say later. "I can't remember exactly. It's been a couple of years, I think."

"You think?" Will asked. At that point, Vaughn could see right through him. _Yes. I know. You never forget the day you meet Sydney Bristow. Especially when she walks into your office with cotton candy hair and a lump on the side of her face that makes you sick to your stomach even now, then proceeds to tell you some crazy story about how she's a spy for your greatest enemy._

It was then that he noticed Francie was staring at him quizzically, a realization slowly dawning on her face. "Wait a minute," she said, then stated, "Your voice -- Joey's Pizza."

Grateful she had stolen Will's momentum, he threw his voice into one of the many he used for the calls. "Joey's Pizza?"

She burst out laughing. "You don't know how many times I've nearly smashed the phone because of you!"

"Actually," Vaughn corrected, "I do. And you have a very colorful vocabulary."

"Sorry," Francie squeezed out between giggles.

Meanwhile, Will was looking increasingly irate. "Somebody want to fill me in, here?"

"All these years, we've been getting these wrong number calls for this 'Joey's Pizza,'" Francie said. "I keep telling Syd we need to get our number changed, and she keeps saying 'sure,' and of course we never get around to it. And it turns out that was, what, your code to meet?"

Vaughn nodded.

"So how dangerous is this bank scandal, anyway?" Will asked. "Meeting in secret, hauling Sydney off in handcuffs..."

"We wanted to be careful for her protection," Vaughn answered, his mind racing ahead to map out the lie. "There were some concerns that there might be mob connections. And we couldn't let anyone at the bank know what was going on before we had a chance to gather enough evidence. These corporate investigations can get pretty nasty." _As can international espionage_, he thought.

"What branch of the government do you work for, anyway?" Will fired back.

"IRS," Vaughn replied. That revelation was, he knew, the fastest way to end a conversation about one's job. He made a mental note to tell Sydney as Will managed only a dull, "Oh."

"Will," Francie said, with a pointed look in his direction. "Why don't we let Michael go. I'm sure he's just as tired as Sydney."

Vaughn stood to leave. "It was very nice to meet both of you," he said, which was at least true in Francie's case. "Tell Sydney I'll call her tomorrow," he told her.

After she shut the front door behind him, Francie turned to glare at Will. "Don't even say it."

"What?" he cried, feigning innocence by throwing his hands in the air.

"Whatever you were going to say, just don't even say it."


	9. Options Reconsidered

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: PG-13 (no f-bombs, but a few more swear words than previous chapters -- you've been warned)  
Spoilers: None  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R

**Chapter 9 - Options Reconsidered**

Sydney moaned groggily and rolled over to glance at her alarm clock. The time shocked her, and she sat up straight in bed, thoughts still tangled.

_1:05? What the? Alarm? Shit. Work._ And then she remembered. _There was no work._ Which turned her thoughts to just how she had ended up bed in the first place. 

"Hey, sleepyhead," Francie said, peering in from the doorway. Noting Sydney's confusion, she added, "Mr. Handsome carried you in, and we are _so_ going to have to discuss that later. I took care of the pajamas."

_Mr. Handsome? Will? No. Vaughn. Had to be Vaughn. Cover story? Damn it._ "Thanks. How long have I been asleep?"

"Somewhere around 15 hours. I came back to check on you at lunch and you were still dead to the world," Francie said. "I was starting to get worried. Come on, I'll make you some coffee."

Sydney swung her legs out of bed and stood up to follow Francie. The coffee machine was already gurgling by the time she stumbled into to the kitchen, blinking her eyes. She grabbed a box of cereal from the cabinet and poured herself a liberal bowl.

"You sure you don't want to just skip straight to dinner?" Francie teased, turning to look at Sydney, who shook her head quickly and returned to devouring the cereal. "Okay, I'll take that as a no." She set a cup of coffee down in front of Sydney and leaned back against the counter top, crossing her arms.

"So?"

"So what?" Sydney asked, spoon poised in mid-air.

"So this insanely gorgeous guy shows up on our doorstep last night and says he's been working with you for years, that's what," Francie said. "Come on, you've got to spill. Have you two been having some kind of clandestine romance? Or is he a total asshole? He seemed really nice last night . Even stood up to Will's grilling pretty well."

Sydney mentally chastised herself. _That was not something I wanted him to have to do solo._ _Especially since now I don't know what he said._ "Oh, no," she said, suddenly feeling like she was defending one part of her life against the other. "Vaughn's great. He's beyond great."

"What did you just call Michael?"

_Shit. What last name did he give them? So much for no more lying._ Sydney put a confused look on her face. "Huh?" she asked, and took a defensive mouthful of cereal.

"You called him by his last name."

_Oh, okay._ Sydney finished chewing. "Yeah. That's what everyone..." _Everyone where?_ "....everyone calls him that."

"Is that some kind of IRS thing?" Francie asked, giggling before she forced her expression back to serious. _Did she just say IRS?_ "Sorry, Syd. I shouldn't make fun of his job. He seems nice, and it's obvious he cares a lot about you. Plus he's really hot." _Did she just say hot?_

"So, seriously. Are you two going out? Because if so I'm going to let you take on the task of telling Will."

"No," Sydney said, smiling softly. "We couldn't, because we worked together. It would've complicated...the investigation."

"But what about now?"

_Now?_ "I don't know," Sydney said. "After we first met, I would have said definitely yes. But we've kind of pushed it out of the way for so long I'm just not sure there's any..."

"...spark?" Francie suggested.

"Yeah," Sydney said. "Any spark left."

"You know what I think?" Francie asked. "I think I've seen you go a very long time without dating anyone. At first I thought it was because....of Danny. But then a year passed, and two years passed, and it was like you wouldn't even look at a guy. I could never figure out why," she said. "But now I know."

A sad smile spread across Sydney's face. "It's just...in our case things are really complicated."

"Love is supposed to be complicated, Syd," Francie said. She glanced at her watch. "And I really need to get back to work. You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"Okay," Francie said. She gestured toward the blinking light on their answering machine. "I think that's for you."

Sydney waited until Francie left to pour herself another bowl of cereal and hit the play button.

A familiar voice stumbled through the first message. "Hey, uh, Sydney. It's me. Oh, sorry. I -- it's Vaughn. Anyway, I'm not sure if you're still asleep, or if you're out, but I, um, just wanted to see how you were doing," and then as if Vaughn had decided the message was a lost cause and he might as well try to draw a laugh out of her, "Damn it. Joey's Pizza?"

Laughing, Sydney picked up the phone, then realized she didn't know his office number. She tried his cell.

"Hey, Syd," he said, sounding relieved. "Can you hang on just a second?"

"Sure." She tapped her fingers on the counter top, turning Francie's comments over in her head.

"Okay. Sorry. How are you feeling?"

"Better. I've been awake for..." She checked her watch. "Twenty-three minutes. You should have woke me up, Vaughn. I didn't mean to have you suffer through the Will Tippen third degree."

"You looked so -- I don't know -- at peace. I couldn't bring myself to do it."

"It was the first time I've fallen asleep not worrying about anything in a long time," she confessed, then stumbled ahead. "So...are you doing anything tonight?"

"Actually, yes," Vaughn said. "I promised someone I'd take her to a hockey game. Seven o'clock. Kings-Sharks. That is, if you're free."

"I'm so free it's absurd." 

He pictured her grinning broadly. "Say I pick you up at six?"

"Sure."

"All right. See you then," he said. "By the way, I took a job with the IRS."

"Francie told me," she said. _Will. Damn it._ "Will is going to call them asking a million questions, if he hasn't already."

"He did. It's been taken care of," Vaughn said. She heard him talking to someone in the background. "Hey, Syd. I've got to go, but one more thing. I ran into your father on my way out to the car last night. He wanted me to tell you he's proud of you."

"Thanks," she said, letting that knowledge ripple pleasantly through her mind.

_Six o'clock_, Sydney thought after she hung up, _gives me enough time to take a bath and get some more work done on my paper_. She was headed toward the bathroom when someone knocked on her front door, prompting panic. Dashing to the sink, she poured a handful of water and used it to swish her mouth out, then tugged her fingers frantically through her hair.

That done, she sprinted to the front door and yanked it open. "Dad?" Suddenly, she was glad Francie had gone with the flannel pajamas. He was, as always, impeccably suited.

"I just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing," he said.

"Good," she said, glancing down at her attire. "Actually, I just woke up."

"So I gathered," he commented dryly.

"I talked to Vaughn," she said. "He passed along your message. Thank you."

He blinked, and gave her the pause that usually meant bad news. "Sydney, the CIA offered me a job at Langley. Assistant Deputy Director of Operations."

_Langley? As in Langley, Virginia?_ "Congratulations," she said, her voice a little too emphatic. "That's a great opportunity for you."

"I told them to find me something closer to home." Sydney's face registered shock, and Jack looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Look, I know I wasn't there most of the time when you needed a father. But that doesn't mean I didn't want to be."

Her eyes filled with tears and she reached out to embrace him. "I understand now, Dad. I didn't always, but I understand."

They pulled apart and she wiped an errant tear from her cheek, surprised to find that his eyes seemed a little glassier. "Would you like to come in, have a cup of coffee?"

He looked at her. "Not now, but why don't we have dinner later this week?" She nodded. "I'll let you get changed. I assume you're doing something with Agent Vaughn tonight?"

"Yeah." She smiled, blushing slightly. "How did you know?"

"Sydney, I've been in the spy trade for more than 30 years. Give me some credit."


	10. What Happens Now

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: None  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R -- You guys have been wonderful with the feedback!

**Chapter 10 - What Happens Now**

Weiss flopped down in the chair in front of Vaughn's desk. "That Marshall is a real trip."

Vaughn looked up from his paperwork. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Explanation of gadget, dynamics of an ant hill, explanation of gadget, physics of a black hole, explanation of gadget, healing properties of ginseng..."

His rant continued, but Vaughn found his thoughts trailing back to his phone conversation with Sydney that afternoon. He had shocked himself, actually managing to deliver the cavalier response to her question about whether he was doing anything that night. That he had practiced it a few dozen times in his head, hoping she would pose the question, was immaterial.

"...the chemical differences between light beer and regular -- at least that was interesting," Weiss said. "It's 4:55."

"Huh?"

"It's 4:55, which would make it 30 seconds later than the last time you checked your watch. What time's the big date?"

"Six o'clock, and it's not a date," Vaughn said. "We're just going to a hockey game."

"Oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"I'm not even going to justify that with a response," Vaughn retorted.

"Seriously, Vaughn. Have you thought about what happens now?" Besides Vaughn, Weiss was the only person at the CIA who knew about the kiss in the warehouse years ago. When Vaughn had first told him, Weiss had threatened to take the matter to Devlin, "because you're my friend, and I'd rather not see you full of bullets." It had taken a lot of fast talking by Vaughn to convince him that the kiss had effectively ended, rather than enhanced, the tension between him and Sydney.

Vaughn stayed moodily silent. "Okay, so that's a yes," Weiss said.

"We've lied to ourselves for a long time," Vaughn said. "I don't know how she feels anymore. Hell, I'm not even sure how I feel anymore."

"I'm sure you just want to be her friend," Weiss said. "Which is why you haven't dated anyone since Alice. Give me a break, Mike." He paused. "Don't tell me you two are going to wait all this time and then dance around the issue."

"It's not that," Vaughn protested. "You know what they teach you about dealing with interrogations -- to make up lies and tell them to yourself over and over again until you believe them? It's kind of like that."

"Whatever. Real simple solution. Kiss her tonight, then see how you feel. Now it's five o'clock. Leave."

Vaughn stood. "I mean it," Weiss threatened. "I am not going to deal with you moping around here for another three and a half years."

"I have not been moping."

"Whatever."

Vaughn found that Sydney's driveway had the same number of cars in it as it had the previous night, which meant he would have to face Will again. _At least Sydney's awake this time_, he thought. Somehow, it was comforting to him that she could kick Will's ass five times over, even if Will didn't know it.

Thankfully, Sydney answered the door, clad in faded jeans and a form-fitting red t-shirt. "Hi. You're early," complete with a brilliant smile. "Come on in."

He followed her into the house, bracing himself. "I understand everyone has already met," she said, smiling sheepishly at Will and Francie, who were seated on the couch. Actually, she more than understood, and had in fact already dealt with a lengthy interrogation by Will. That had been fraught with IRS cracks and barely concealed jealousy, and wasn't something she wanted to repeat soon.

Will greeted him with a false-friendly, "Hi, Michael." Vaughn realized he would probably be fine until the next time he was in the same room as Will, sans Sydney. _To his credit_, he thought, _you've been able to be jealous of him for years. He's got a lot of catch-up time_.

"Just let me go grab my purse," Sydney told him. "Damn. My wallet, it's still --"

"I've got your bag and some of your other stuff from the office in my car," he said. "Weiss and I were going to swing by with your car tomorrow, if that's okay."

"Thanks. That's fine," she said. "I'll be right back."

Vaughn waited until they had stepped outside before he asked, "Does Will live there?"

"In theory, no. In practice, yes," she said, laughing. "Vaughn, it's going to take him awhile to warm up to you, and there's probably not anything you can do. I know he's always had this belief that we'd end up together, and he sees you as a threat to that." They both grew uncomfortable at the underlying suggestion, but it passed by the time they reached his car.

When they arrived at the game, Sydney found her body was humming, both excited and nervous. "You ready?" he asked, putting the car in park.

"Yeah," she said. "I kind of feel like I'm going on a mission. Mission: Normal." She smirked, and then added seriously, "Vaughn, what if I can't be normal?"

That was not exactly what her brain had posed, unbidden, earlier that day as she had been scouring her closet. That line of questioning had been, "Can _we_ be normal? Can we exist outside of dank warehouses and pretending to be perfect strangers every time we're in public? Can we actually hang out together instead of asking each other on imaginary dates we can't ever actualize?" She settled for the one she voiced.

He looked down and smiled. "Sydney, you're never going to be a normal person. You would have still been special even if SD-6 had never recruited you," he paused. "But I think you're going to be good at doing normal things."

Sydney blushed at the compliment and changed the subject to dodge further thought as to its meaning. "I caught you," she accused. "Looking for tails on the way here."

"At least one of us still works for the CIA," he replied archly. "Come on. I think the whole point of this was to go out in public, not sit in the car."

_Actually, she thought, I could go for just sitting in the car and talking. As long as no one says "counter mission." Vaughn's probably too much of a hockey fan to go for that plan, though._ She opened her door and stepped out.

"Doesn't this feel weird?" she whispered as they walked through the throngs of people to their seats.

"Extremely," he said, looking directly at her. "But in a good way."


	11. Shifting

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: Truth Be Told (pilot)  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R

**Chapter 11 - Shifting**

Staring at him as he focused intently on the game had started as an act of defiance. Because she could. Because SD-6 wasn't watching. Because SD-6 didn't exist anymore.

But at some point her reasons changed. Because she'd been afraid to really look at him, really appreciate him, for a very long time. Because she loved the lines and angles of his face. Because her pulse quickened a little. Because it made her remember a time when she had wanted to kiss him.

Those thoughts were interrupted, however, when he suddenly leapt from his seat, screaming. "Come on! You've gotta stop him!" The Sharks had just scored to tie the game, seconds before the end of the second period.

When he sat back down, she was laughing hysterically. "That's a side of you I've never seen."

"What side?" He hadn't seen anything wrong with that action, especially since a number of other people around them were also reclaiming their seats.

"The pissed-off-sports-fan side." She'd had a general grasp of the game coming in, but he had spent most of the first two periods detailing the finer points of hockey for her. She had enjoyed it, not due to any particular interest on her part, but simply because she was able to listen to him talk about something he enjoyed.

He leaned over and whispered. "So I take it you would have liked it if during one of our meetings I jumped up and yelled, 'No way! Penalty on Sloane!'" They shared a private laugh as the people around them stood to stretch.

"Probably wouldn't have been appropriate," she responded. "But it sure as hell would have been funny." She didn't mention that his breath on her ear had made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

He surprised her again, later, by high-fiving everyone in their general vicinity, including her, when the Kings scored to go ahead for good.

"I'm glad they managed to get us a win," he said as they walked out. "After all these years, anything else would have just been wrong."

Sydney nodded, realizing she didn't want the night to end, that she wanted more time to examine the emotions that were beginning to reemerge in her. "Would you like to go for coffee or something?" She glanced at her watch. "Or is it getting too late? You've got work tomorrow."

He grinned. "After the last couple of weeks I've reached the point where four hours of sleep is a good night's rest. There's a great little coffee shop near my place."

Sydney decided she loved the place as soon as she saw it, extremely small and homey. "This place is like the anti-Starbucks." He glanced at her as they walked toward the front door, uncertain if her comment had been an insult or compliment. "I like it," she said, catching his gaze.

"You haven't had the coffee yet." His voice was full of promise.

"Motown?" she asked, catching the music as soon as they walked in. "Now I really like it."

"It's still a mom-and-pop business. They play what they like -- oldies, rock and roll, R&B. It's one of the reasons why I love this place, besides the coffee. I have a low tolerance for jazz," he admitted.

"You _ have_ to come with me the next time we hit a music store," she said. "Will has this weird obsession with the '80s, and Francie's taste in music is just...out there."

"Why don't you go ahead and sit down," he said. "I'll order." He walked up to the counter and caught the attention of the young cashier, who had been reading a textbook. She was the only other person in the shop.

_This is good_, Sydney thought as she selected a table. _ Normal people have things in common besides having once been agent and handler. Things like musical tastes and a love for quaint little coffee shops with Formica tabletops and wood paneling on the walls._

Vaughn set a mug down in front of her and sat down across the table from her, an eager look on his face. She took a hesitant sip.

"Ow," she said, reaching up to rub her cheek. "Good, but hot."

He looked at her quizzically.

"Tooth," she said. "Or rather lack thereof."

"You never got it fixed?"

As an answer, she opened her mouth wide, revealing the gap. "I never had time," she said.

Vaughn cringed. "Sorry," she said, noting his unease. "I guess I'm used to it, so I don't think it's gross."

"It's not that," he said. "It's the thought of someone doing it to you."

"Oh." They sat in silence for a few moments before Sydney continued, her tone thoughtful. "You know, that was the scariest time in my life." Vaughn looked up from his coffee cup. "After they killed Danny, and I found out the truth about SD-6, it was like I was completely alone in the world. Like it was me against everyone. I didn't know if I could trust my father, and I hadn't met you yet."

She looked to him for affirmation before continuing. "When I went to Taipei, I didn't really care if I lived or died. I didn't. Life was just so horrible that it wasn't real to me anymore. When they ripped that tooth out, it made it real. The pain made it real. I don't know how else to describe it, but that's when I decided I had to fight. Fight those men. Fight SD-6."

Sydney took a sip of her now-cooled coffee. "What was the scariest time in your life, Vaughn?"

He paused, thoughtfully, and she was glad he wasn't going to give her some generic answer. "Every time you went on a mission."

_She hadn't expected that one at all._ "Really?"

"Yeah." Embarrassed, he averted his gaze. "Weiss used to make fun of me. I was like this total basket case. Just knowing you were out there and there was nothing I could do to help you, it made me crazy."

Without realizing it, she slid her hands across the table and grasped his. "Vaughn, you did so much for me. Just by being there when I got back. By being there at three in the morning when I needed someone to talk to."

The look on his face told her he was about to protest.

"I mean it, Vaughn. I don't think I would have made it without you." Sydney leaned slightly closer to him, and he echoed her movement. She had never been able to examine his eyes this closely before. Tiny flecks of gold, blue and black were intermingled with the bold green. _Amazing_, she thought.

Her heart was pounding as she tilted her head slightly and leaned even closer. Vaughn reached out, gently tracing his fingertips along her jaw, touch feather-light. His breath was gentle on her face, hers coming faster in an attempt to keep pace with her pulse.

_We're going to kiss. I want to kiss._

She had been too distracted to notice the beginning of a new song. But the first line made her jerk back violently, tears pooling in her eyes.

"Why do you build me up, buttercup, baby, just to let me down..."


	12. The First Failure

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: The Confession  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R

**Chapter 12 - The First Failure**

Vaughn watched in shock as Sydney pulled away from him, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, barely audible, before she slid out of her seat and fled.

He replayed the last few minutes in his mind. _ Telling her of his fears when she went on a mission. Never having felt more exposed than with this particular revelation to this particular woman. The calming power of her reassurance. Looking into her eyes, feeling the floodgates open and his emotions come pouring out. Feeling mesmerized with her face and wanting to touch it. Her acceptance of this action. The old need, suddenly reemerged full-force, to feel her lips on his._

And then, _this_. Vaughn stood, unsure if she would want him to follow or not. He threw a few bills on the table and walked toward the door, opening it hesitantly.

She was sitting on the curb, knees tucked up to her chin, sobbing violently. _ Whatever had caused this, it couldn't have just been a near-kiss._

"Sydney, I'm so sorry," he said, sitting a safe distance away from her. "I shouldn't have thought—"

"Not...fault," she said, sobs breaking up any semblance of coherence she might have had. "That song...Danny...first date..." Deep, shaky breath. "He screamed it in the middle of the commons when he..." Long series of sobs that left her gasping for air. "...proposed." Now wailing.

_Oh._ He ached to pull her into his arms and just sit there until the tears stopped, as they had so many times before. But he was uncertain about touching her, uncertain about even being there. Gradually, terribly slowly, her sobbing slowed.

She turned her head, ever so slightly, to look at him, but said nothing.

Vaughn spoke instead, voicing the thoughts that lived only in the dark corners of his mind. "Sometimes I feel guilty just knowing you," he confessed. "Because of what had to happen, the tragedy that had to fall into place, in order for us to meet."

"I've thought about that too," she said softly. Her hand reached through the darkness to clasp his. Her fingers were bare, and he recalled distinctly the first day she had shown up at the warehouse without her engagement ring. "What I hate most is now I know things never would have worked out between us."

Vaughn couldn't even begin to fathom an appropriate response to that, so he waited for her to continue.

"It was a catch-22," she said. "I don't think we would have made it, not long term, if I couldn't tell him the truth. It's too hard to hide something like that from someone you love. The fake trips, the bruises, the lies, it all adds up." She sobbed again. "But telling him got him killed."

"I told myself to move on, that he would have wanted me to move on," she said. "But sometimes you just see something, or hear something, and it brings it all right back."

The reassurance formed in his mind. A story about how angry he had been when his mother began dating again. How long it had taken him to realize that trying to find love again didn't make her love his father any less. But the topic of how his mother had become a widow was always an uneasy one between them, and they had already dredged up too many ghosts that night, Vaughn decided. He stayed silent.

He didn't realize how long the silence lasted until she whispered, "Can we go, please?"

The tone of her voice wasn't cold, merely weary, but it stabbed at him. Over the years he had listened to her darkest fears, stumbled through comforting speeches, reassured her with his eyes and his arms. There had always been some shift in her demeanor, some subtle change that told him he had helped, even if only slightly. This time, there was nothing, and he grew angry at himself for not knowing what to say, what to do.

"Sure," he said, a twinge of bitterness creeping into his voice.

They stayed silent during the drive to her house, but he made one last attempt as she stepped out of the car. "Sydney, I'm sorry,"

She turned to look at him, eyes sad and tired. "It's not your fault, Vaughn. Circumstances beyond your control."

_That_, he thought, _ is always the story. Circumstances beyond our control._ He waited until she walked through the front door to drive away.

Will's jacket was still slung over the couch, Sydney noticed as she stepped into the house. She was facing another confrontation with him, but she was too emotionally weary to really care.

"So, how was your night?" he called from the kitchen. He was trying to sound friendly, but couldn't completely cover the undertones of jealousy.

"It was okay," she said softly. "Where's Francie?"

"She went to bed. I thought I'd wait for you." He was definitely drunk.

_You thought you'd wait and see if I came home_, she thought, realizing that if things had gone differently, she might not have.

Will walked into the living room, where she had been standing. It only took him a glance to pick up on the puffiness of her face, the turmoil in her eyes. "Hey," he said, quiet and comforting. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head before speaking, voice hushed. "Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing," he said, voice louder than it needed to be, between the alcohol and his anger. "Syd, did he do anything to hurt you, because I swear—"

"No. Never." She cut him off with all the strength she could muster. "Something happened that reminded me of Danny, and I just couldn't handle it." She sat down on the couch and rested her forehead in her hand. "I think I ruined everything."

He sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently. "Did he know about Danny?" She nodded. _Yes_, she thought. _ He knows the truth about Danny, and he knows the real destinations of all of those bank trips, and he knows why I burned every picture I have of my mother._

"Then I'm sure he understood."

"He did," she said. _ Because he always does. _ "I'm not even sure how I wanted things to go, but it definitely wasn't like that."

Sydney turned her head to look at Will. She hadn't expected this expression, hadn't thought he would look as if he had pushed all the jealousy aside and was focused only on caring. "I think we both know how I feel," he said, touching her chin with his fingertip. "But Syd, when I told you I wanted you to be happy, I meant it. You have to decide how to get yourself there."

His face was close, she realized, almost as close as Vaughn's had been earlier. Uncomfortably close, especially when her thoughts were centered on another man. "Thank you," she whispered, sliding away from him and standing.

_Once you accepted where he was coming from_, she thought, _ Will's advice was pretty strong_.  
  



	13. Always There

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: None  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R

**Chapter 13 - Always There**

She had been sitting on the couch, anticipating a knock on the front door, for quite some time. But Sydney's stomach still lurched when it finally came.

Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the door and opened it. Vaughn was standing there, tie loosened and slightly askew, with deep purple circles under his eyes. "Hi. You...forgot this last night," he said, nodding in reference to the box he was holding in his hands.

"Oh." She had been too flustered as she left his car to even think about her things from work. She took the box from him and placed it on the floor next to her feet. Pulling herself back upright, she forced herself to look him in the eye, and instantly hated what she saw. He was looking at her as if she was a piece of fine china he had been entrusted with. Like he had dropped her and watched, horrified, as she smashed into bits.

Sydney had planned a number of ways to address what had happened the previous night, but none of them stood up to the look on his face.

Finally, he spoke. "Your, uh, car keys are in the box." He motioned to her Land Rover, which was now parked in the driveway. Weiss was seated in Vaughn's car, parked behind it. 

"Thanks."

"I'll see you," he said, in a tone that told her he wasn't so sure he would. Then he turned to walk away.

_No, damn it. You can't just walk away_, she thought. Desperately, she called out his name, and he snapped back around.

"I've got class this afternoon, and then I'm meeting my dad for dinner," she said. "But we were going to go out to The Pub later, if you'd like to come." Actually, she hadn't had any such plans. In her desperation, she blurted out the first social thing she could think of, non-threatening and non-romantic. Anything to see him that night, to keep him from guilting his way out of her life.

"Okay." His eyes revealed hope. He motioned to the car. "Mind if I bring Weiss? He says this week has really put a damper on his social life."

_Okay_, she thought. _ So there are the ground rules. We start again tonight as friends and see where it goes._

"Not at all." She tried to make her smile reassuring. The corners of his mouth turned weakly before he turned and walked to the car. Sydney waited until it was headed down the street to sprint inside and pick up the phone.

"Francie, we have to go to the bar tonight."

_If not for the dark, complex cloud hanging over the whole thing, it could have been a good day_, Sydney mused as she walked into the smoky bar with Will and Francie. She had been able to listen somewhat attentively during class, and had — for once — turned a paper in on time. Dinner with her father had been pleasant, up until the point where he asked about her night with Vaughn. Fortunately, he had let the matter drop, his look a mixture of concerned and relieved, when she told him softly that she didn't want to talk about it.

Will and Francie had both been up for an impromptu night out, although only Francie knew what had spurred it. She followed them to the bar and ordered a drink.

"Here, let me get it," Will told the bartender, slipping him the money and intercepting Sydney's drink. He handed it to her and raised his own glass in the air, indicating she and Francie should do the same.

"To Sydney and her damn bank job, which is finally oh-ver!" He and Francie whooped as they clinked glasses.

Sydney laughed and looked down at her attire as a blond in a skin-tight dress walked by. She had considered wearing something similar, but eventually decided against it. She was past her limit on tight dresses, stilettos, and wigs, plus she wasn't sure how Vaughn would have read it. Instead, she had opted for black pants and a tank top, which were still earning her stares from a man sitting at the bar.

"Why don't we go get a booth?" she suggested, and they walked toward the back of the bar.

Francie deftly maneuvered herself so that she was sitting next to Will, leaving Sydney with an empty seat next to her. _ Good work, Francie_, she thought, scanning the bar for Vaughn or Weiss. She saw neither.

Will worked through his first beer faster than the two women, and when he headed back to the bar, Sydney looked at Francie and said doubtfully, "I don't think he's going to show."

"He'll show," Francie responded immediately.

"How do you know?"

"Syd, I haven't known the guy for very long, but I get the feeling he'd do anything for you," Francie said. "I think showing up at a bar certainly fits within the definition of anything."

"Anything, what?" Will asked as he sat back down, placing a bottle in front of each of them. "Refills, ladies."

"Nothing," Sydney said, snapping her attention toward the bar's entrance. Vaughn and Weiss had just walked in. She assumed they had come straight from work, as both were still wearing dress shirts and pants. They were scanning the bar, looking for her, and she gave them a feeble wave. Weiss caught it, waving back and then saying something to Vaughn. They stopped at the bar for drinks before heading toward the booth.

"Hey!" Sydney called out, as Vaughn and Weiss walked up to their booth. "Will, Francie, this is Eric Weiss. He works with Vaughn."

Vaughn grabbed a chair from another table and set it next to their table as everyone exchanged greetings. He then slid into the booth next to her, leaving the chair for Weiss.

"So," Will said, voice teeming with sarcasm. "What's going on in the big, bad IRS world these days?"

Sydney assumed Vaughn had explained the cover to Weiss, or that this was one they commonly used, because he immediately launched into a story on tax loopholes so full of odd tangents and strangely familiar she could hardly contain herself. She got the distinct impression Vaughn shared her situation. Eventually, she decided she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Excuse me," she said, looking at Vaughn. "I think I need to hit the ladies' room."

Sydney stood and walked past a few booths, turning down a small hallway toward the restrooms. She made it a few steps down the hallway before bursting into giggles.

Vaughn joined her a few moments later. "Can you tell he's been doing Marshall's interrogations?" he managed to get out before laughing uncontrollably.

"Not at all. That -- " she said, gasping for air. " -- was cruel."

They stayed that way for quite awhile, his hand on her arm, in mutual appreciation of Weiss' wicked sense of humor. _This_, she thought, _ as her mind began to calm down, is the way it's supposed to be. The two of us, laughing over a shared secret. No awkwardness, no guilt._

But then Vaughn's laughter slowly trickled to a halt. It left his eyes, replaced by the guilt and pain from earlier.

"About last night," he started. She shook her head, indicating that she understood, that there was no need for him to continue. He read this reaction, but continued anyway. "No. I need to say this."

"Syd, I'm sorry I didn't know what to say. I'm sorry I didn't know what to do. I...just...the situation..."

He was stumbling now, but she understood his meaning. "Vaughn, stop it." She spoke firmly, her words a reflection of the thoughts she had carefully analyzed over the course of the day. "You don't ever have to say anything, or do anything. You just have to be there, and you have." Her voice was no longer steady, her eyes filling with tears, but she turned to face him, her hands on his arms. "You always have. I don't know if you know how much that means to me."

Sydney looked him over as her reassurance began to soften the worry on his face. There could only be one response to the expression that took its place, she realized, stepping forward so that they were painfully close. His eyes -- the green and the blue and the gold and the black -- stared into hers, conveying what he wanted, asking if she wanted the same. Asking if she wanted to give this another try.

_Yes_, she thought, heart pounding, unable to vocalize it. The look in her eyes must have been sufficient, because he lowered his mouth to hers, sending a shock through her system as lips met lips.


	14. Beginnings

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: R (and it's not for swearing...you've been warned!)  
Spoilers: None  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: My first fic :-) Please R&R

**Chapter 14 - Beginnings**

She was dizzy.

She was dizzy and her head was spinning and the only thing keeping her standing was his hand, strong on her neck, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened. She was vaguely aware of a few bar patrons walking past them, headed for the restroom. She was more aware of his tongue, searching her mouth, carefully avoiding the gap where her ill-fated tooth had once been.

Then his mood shifted yet again. He pulled away, staring at her, afraid of her reaction. "Sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have...not so soon after..."

Not so soon after she had cried herself to sleep, guilty over the man she had lost, and afraid she might lose another. Not so soon after she had woke to realize that she would probably cry every time she heard that song, and that Vaughn would always understand.

"No," she whispered. "This is right."

Before she had been recruited by SD-6, Sydney had been a terribly shy college student. It had taken months of training and several missions for her to learn how to instantly thicken her skin, to do or say whatever it took to get what she needed. She was still shy, but could leave it behind in a moment, become instantly brash.

Which was what she did when she reached around his neck and pulled his lips back to hers. She wrapped her arms around his waist, wanting to be closer, so close there was nothing between them. The chills down her spine returned as he ran his fingers through her hair, followed by another, deeper sensation as his desire for her became more apparent.

Finally, she pulled back slightly, breathing heavily. "Vaughn..."

"Why don't you call me by my first name?"

She wasn't quite sure where that question had come from, particularly at this point and time, but decided to give it a shot. 

"Michael...Mike," she tried, frowning. "It just doesn't work."

Her next attempt garnered a much better reaction. "Vaughn," she said, voice deep and a little hoarse. "Let's get out of here."

She stopped him as they made their way across the bar, pulled him close for another kiss. Realized she didn't care that they were in the middle of a very-crowded bar. Didn't care if Will was watching. Only cared about his closeness, his hands roaming her back.

Her body was tense and aroused as she drove them to her house, wishing the old Land Rover wasn't a stick shift so she could hold his hand. So she could keep some part of her body in contact with his. He seemed to sense this and placed his hand on her knee. She responded by running a red light.

As they stumbled through her front door, lips pressed together, his hands toying with the straps of her tank top, she replayed every mission, every meeting, in her mind. Those memories overwhelmed her, and her eyes grew watery. Sensing the change in her demeanor, he pulled away.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered, a smile overtaking her face. "I'm great." She took his hand and led him to her bedroom.

Coherent thought left her shortly after they reached the bed.

_Hands._ _Lips._ _Clothes._ _Touch._ _Warmth. __Chills._ _Pants._ _Naked._

_Naked with Vaughn._ Stunning self-consciousness accompanied this realization, not helped by the shocked expression on his face. 

"Wow," he whispered. "You weren't kidding about that bruise."

It had faded to the point where it consisted of an ugly shade of yellow intermingled with purple blotches, but was still clearly visible, trailing much of the length of her body on one side.

As he traced it with delicate fingertips, she remembered him calling her name, three times. His voice, pleading with her to get up. The relief she could almost feel through the radio waves when she finally did.

The memory prompted the tears in her eyes to finally spill over, and her mouth to say, as if of its own accord, the words stabbing at her mind.

"I love you."

He was quick to tell her the same.


	15. Daylight

Title: Spark  
Author: Laras_Dice  
Rating: R (mostly suggestive)  
Spoilers: None  
Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know  
Summary: If you convince yourself of a lie long enough, does it become your truth?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and love Alias. So don't sue me!

AN: Yes, this is the final chapter. It's time to cut this sucker off and call it a cab. However, I do promise sequels of some sort in the future, because I think there's plenty more directions left for this thing to go in (right now I need to get some work done, hehehe). This storyline just sort of took over my brain and I had to get it out. I've loved everyone's comments and encouragement, and I'm really glad if you enjoyed it.

-Lara (laras_dice@yahoo.com)

**Chapter 15 - Daylight**

On this morning, the nightmares did not wake him. She wasn't discovered. Hadn't disappeared. Wasn't dead.

And that, Vaughn realized as he slid calmly into consciousness, was because Sydney was the warm presence beside him in bed.

He rolled over to glance at her bedside clock and thanked his internal clock for waking him up early enough to linger for awhile. His movement stirred her from sleep, and she jerked awake, sitting upright with her hands balled into fists.

"Whoa, easy," he said, as she quickly took in her surroundings and relaxed, sliding back down under the covers. "Did anybody ever tell you that you wake like a soldier?" It wasn't any of the loving greetings he had planned, but none of those had been designed to deal with the split-second feeling that she might do some damage before the wildness left her eyes.

"Sorry," she smiled shyly, eyes a little sad. "Not used to this."

By "this," he assumed she meant waking so close to someone else. She had explained as much to him the night before, telling him softly that this was her first time since Danny. That had wrought a quick analysis on his part, and a realization that his sex life had ended shortly after his first glimpse of pink hair. He had shared this with her, adding, "If we could wait this long, I think we can take it slow."

This response had earned him a delicate smile. His actions shortly thereafter, a gasp. He had treasured both.

His slid his arm across her stomach and moved closer, feeling her tense momentarily and then relax, drawing closer. _After last night_, he thought, _it shouldn't feel strange to touch her_. 

But it did. Strange and new and wonderful.

She frowned, glancing at the clock. "You've got work, huh?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'd call in sick but we've still got a lot of work ahead of us. Plus I'd never hear the end of it from Weiss."

She laughed, then turned serious. "How are things going?"

"About as well as can be expected," he said. "We may be able to release some people next week, including Dixon and Marshall." Sydney nodded as he added nervously, "Devlin's been getting antsy about you."

She sighed. "Vaughn, I did think about it. I really did. But I can't go back."

"As a senior officer, I would have to be disappointed in your decision," he said, mocking an official tone before shifting and placing a cautious, careful kiss on her lips. "But I understand. And honestly, I'm glad."

"Glad?" she questioned. "Whatever happened to me being 'too damn good at what I do to give it up'?"

"You are," he told her. "But I'm too damn good at worrying about you."

"Not anymore." She grinned and moved to stand. "Come on. I suppose you need a ride back to your car."

Exit from the bed and recovery of clothing was a quick process, marked by averted eyes. Certain portions of their relationship, Vaughn realized, were going to take some time to adjust to. Less than a week ago, protocol had frowned upon him even touching her.

"I'll be in the kitchen," she told him after he sought directions to the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, "And at some point I'll give you the grand tour."

It wasn't until she arrived in the kitchen that Sydney remembered Will's propensity for coming over to steal breakfast. He had his back turned to her, pouring a himself a cup of coffee, when she walked in.

_There's no way this won't go badly_, she thought, freezing at the entrance.

Rationally, she tried to tell herself that Will was an intelligent guy, and that he had to have figured out what happened when she and Vaughn never returned to the bar booth. Of course, she realized, that didn't mean Will would take it any better. It also didn't explain why he hadn't decided to stop at a doughnut shop or forego breakfast on this particular morning. But she knew Will well enough to know why he was there -- an odd combination of hope and a curiosity that overwhelmed everything else.

"Morning," she choked out as he turned around.

"Hey, Syd." A smile. A hopeful smile.

She could hear Vaughn's footsteps in the hallway behind her, and braced herself for Will's reaction. If her stiff gait hadn't given things away, this surely would. As Vaughn stepped into the kitchen, her back was to him, and Sydney was glad she didn't have to deal with his expression as well. The look on Will's face was bad enough.

It resonated with shock, embarrassment, anger and hurt. But most of all, it asked an unanswerable question. 

_Why him and not me?_

She tried to apologize with her eyes, but he still looked like she had kicked him in the stomach.

_Damn it. You wanted me to be happy. I want you to be happy too. Just not the way you want to be happy._

The trio stood silently until Francie walked in. "Uh, good morning?" she asked, reading the situation.

"Morning, Francie." Sydney turned to her and gave her an inappropriately broad smile as thanks for the distraction. "We were just leaving."

"Your keys are right there." Francie pointed to the counter, giving Sydney the look that said, "we will talk later, at length."

Sydney tried to remember where exactly she had left them before deciding it was either on the floor or in the lock, and that it would be probably be better not to find out. "Thanks." She forced herself into motion and picked up the keys, then headed for the door. Vaughn trailed close behind.

Will had recovered enough to plaster a fake smile on his face and say, "See you later," but when Sydney turned to look at him, the absence of hope in his eyes stabbed at her. _Eventually_, she thought, _ he would come to realize that this was the reason she had spurned his advances over the years. Eventually, this would let him move on._

She pondered, not for the first time, what would have happened if the events of the week had gone differently. How long she would have gone on comparing every man she knew to Vaughn. How long she would have lied to herself on one level, knowing that her actions on another revealed truths she could not admit. How long she would have held out for something with impossible odds. She still had no answer to this internal debate, and was glad she'd never need it.

They stayed quiet during the drive to the bar, Will's hurt hanging in the air. After she pulled into the parking lot, he leaned over to give her a kiss, tentative in the daylight, until she pulled him closer to bring back the chills.

Things were more awkward, Sydney realized, without liquor in her system and emotions heating the air. _ We're going to have to make up this protocol as we go along_, she thought.

"Call you later?" he asked.

"Sure." Sydney considered adding "love you" to the end, but wasn't sure how to make it sound right. She settled for a smile.

"Be careful," Vaughn said. For a moment, the words still sounded natural.

She squinted her eyes critically. "Of what?"

He chuckled, realizing his traditional end to their conversations wasn't going to work anymore. "Literature."

She watched him, clothes rumpled enough to show they had spent the night on the floor, walk the short distance to his car. _We're stumbling through this much more than we would have_, she thought, _if we would have been able to start three years ago_.

Vaughn turned to wave goodbye, the last glimpse of his face and her memories of the night causing her breath to catch. For a second, she tried to bury the reaction, in much the same way that Vaughn had automatically told her to be careful. A smile struck her face as she remembered she could let herself feel whatever she wanted. For awhile she did, forgetting about repercussions and possibilities -- and Will.

One thing was certain, Sydney realized, her smile growing wider as she watched him drive away. There was no doubt in her mind that the spark was back.


End file.
